C. Woodhaven

Part Four

Being invisible sucked.

One minute she and Buffy had been having a humongous fight out in the street, and the next poof, she was gone.

It freaked her out.  

Buffy was sure it was the work of these three geeks that had been annoying her lately: Jonathan, Warren and this
other guy.  Dawn didn’t care, she was just pissed.  She had been hoping to meet Spike this afternoon, maybe
hang out and work on some more spells.  

But instead, Buffy sent her home, to ‘stay out of trouble’ while she and Willow worked on a solution.  Dawn got
the message loud and clear.  Buffy thought she would just get in the way.  And although it wasn’t as if Buffy
could actually tell if she went home, she really didn’t want Spike to see her like this.  It was embarrassing.  

Dawn had just turned the corner down from the Magic Box when she heard the squealing of brakes and caught
sight of a black van.  It had just narrowly missed a blue BMW.  From her vantage point, she couldn’t see the
driver of the van, but she heard him shout out the window to the driver and then mashed the horn.  Instead of a
normal beep, one of the Star Wars songs came out.  Dawn’s eyes widened.  If that didn’t scream geek, she
didn’t know what did.  

She thought they’d have something super geeky and lame on their license plate, but it was normal: THX 1138.  

Dawn repeated the numbers on the license plate over and over while she raced back to the Magic Box.  Maybe

Willow could cross reference it or something and find out where they lived.

As she got there, a customer was just leaving, so she was able to dart in behind them without opening the door
herself.  Buffy and Willow were talking at the big table, so she headed over, but stopped suddenly when she
heard her name.  She paused to listen, a sick feeling starting to form in her stomach.

“…and thank god she wasn’t here when that woman from social services showed up. I can just imagine how it
would have gone if Ms. Kroger had seen Smurfette,” Buffy rolled her eyes.  

“Buffy!” Willow chastised.

“Seriously Will, what was she thinking?  Mom would have had a heart attack if she saw it. And that eyebrow thing just screams delinquent.”

“She’s just finding herself.”

Dawn stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.  It was like she was watching a car accident in slow motion, every detail magnified out of proportion.  She was both fascinated and horrified.

“Well, she’s not going to get lost with that hair,” Buffy quipped.  “I wish …” she sighed, “I don’t know.”

“What?” Willow prodded gently.

“I just…  She’s making things so hard, you know.  I don’t get it.  It’s like she wants to get sent into foster care. I know things are tough for her, but I was never this bad.”

“Yeah, but you had the whole slaying thing going on.   How many times did you lie to your mom about that?”

Buffy sighed, “This is so not the same thing.  Plus you saw how well Mom took it when I was honest with her.  
Dawn is just so much trouble.   I mean look at her, now she’s invisible.”

“That’s not really her fault, Buff,” Willow pointed out.

“I know, I know.  But she was supposed to be in school today.  I was so sure she was skipping when I saw her
on the street.  I swear she never said they had a teacher work day.”  Dawn gritted her teeth – she had told Buffy,

“Things will get better Buffy.”

“Will they? ‘cause right now, I’m thinking that the monks made a huge mistake sending her to me.”

“You don’t mean that!”

Dawn’s heart was plunging down to somewhere around her knees, it was as if all her fears were being

“I’m serious. Maybe the state’s right and she would be better in foster care.” Buffy said harshly.

And that was it.  Dawn felt her heart shatter.  She turned and ran out, not noticing that she had knocked into a display of crystals sending shelf upon shelf of them crashing to the floor.   She pushed through the door, and ran to the only place she felt safe.

She never even saw that all the color drained out of Buffy’s face or heard the horrified whisper, “Oh my god,
Will, what have I done?”


Dawn thankfully found Spike in the lower level of the crypt.  He was just lying back on the bed leafing through a
book.  He looked up from his book when he heard her on the ladder, his eyes narrowing, but made no other
moves.  As Dawn finished climbing down the ladder and turned to face him, she barely registered the addition of
a large number of candles now being used to illuminate the room.

“Whatever beastie you are, toddle off elsewhere,” he said coldly, then shifted into his vamp face, “Less you
came looking for a party?”

“It’s me, Spike,” Dawn said quietly.  As much as she wanted to fall apart, now wasn’t the time.  She needed to get visible first, and then she could fall apart.  

His vamp face melted back to human and he looked confused “’Bit?” he asked, sounding so concerned.   Just seeing that he was concerned caused her to burst into tears in spite of her resolve.  She was pathetic.

He tossed the book on the bed and was on his feet before she could blink back the first wave, holding his arms
out. “Nibblet, come here,” he said.

She ran to him, marveling at how strong his arms were and how weird they must look around her nothingness.  

Tears just poured out, all the rage and pain she’d been holding in over the last several months came flooding out.

“Shh,” he soothed.  He stroked her hair and back gently.  

She felt like she was going to come apart at the seams, and if he moved his arms at all everything she ever was would just melt out into the ether.  As if she never existed.

When it finally seemed that the well was beginning to run dry, she choked out a “Sorry” and tried to pull away, suddenly very conscious she just sobbed like a big baby in his arms.  Then she realized something else, he was also not wearing a shirt.  She began to pull away in earnest, praying that she hadn’t gotten some of her invisible snot on him.

“Hey, hey, none of that” he said firmly, and held her in place.  “You gonna tell me why you’re all Hawley Griffin?” *

“Huh?” Dawn said confused.  She pulled back again, genuinely needing some space.  This time Spike let her go.

“What happened, ‘Bit?  You just wake up ghosty this morning?”

While Spike threw his shirt on, Dawn explained about the geeks and the bright red light that made her vanish. His jaw tightened when heard her tale, but otherwise he was silent.  

She left out most of the stuff about Buffy.  She wasn’t dealing with that now, she had no intention of restarting the waterworks.

“Can you help?” she asked once she’d finished.

“Sure, pet, whatever you need.”

She told him she had a license plate number, but he said that wasn’t necessary.

“You know these guys?” she asked, incredulous.

“Know about them, yeah,” he shrugged.  She looked at him strangely, which he couldn’t see, of course, but her silence must have alerted him that something was amiss. “What?”

“There’s just a lot about you I don’t know,” she said wonderingly, realizing it for the first time.    Then she shook her head pushing that thought away, she didn’t have time for that either.  “Can you make them fix this?” she asked.

“As good as done, sweets.”


They exited the sewers into the shadows outside the geek’s lair.  The huge black van was parked off to one side, so Dawn was sure this was the place.  

Checking out the outer entrance, Dawn was not impressed.  It looked like a weird cross between a garage and a basement, and was about one step up from a shed.  She said to Spike “You gonna need an invite?”


She saw him point to the well worn ‘Welcome’ mat outside the entrance. Morons.

“Let’s go then.”

One mad dash later, Spike was smashing though the door.  In the blink of an eye after that, he was stepping out of the deadly sunlight before more than a few wisps of smoke could form.  Dawn followed a few steps behind him.  

The three geeks jumped up at the noise, looking terrified.  

“Hello kiddies” Spike said menacingly.

Dawn hadn’t seen him like this in forever.  Strong, confident, in his element: a demon to be feared.  The geeks were practically wetting themselves.  Good.  

“S-Spike, what can I do for you?” the Warren guy said.  

In the end, it was incredibly simple to get fixed.  Spike had grabbed Warren by the throat and held him hostage, while Jonathan and the other guy set their invisibility ray up and fired it at her.  

One burst of red light later, she was visible again.

“So, pet, want me to kill him for your trouble?” Spike smiled evilly.  Warren looked panicked, his eyes bulging.  

Dawn frowned thoughtfully, playing along, partially because she didn’t want the losers to know about the chip, but also because she did want them to pay somehow.  She reached out to the nearest shelf, and swept the contents to the floor.  “No, but I do think they need to redecorate,” she said maliciously.

Spike looked a bit put out, but shrugged and dropped the guy.  Once things started to break though, he looked positively merry.  The geeks cowered in the corner, whimpering and begging as he started taking apart their collectables one by one.  

When Spike’s attention was fully on his task, she edged toward the door.  “Sorry, Spike,” she whispered, and slipped out into the sunlight, where he would be unable to follow


She stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down at the swirling water far below, harder to see now that the sun had gone down.  But she could still see the white caps of the waves break as they hit the jagged rocks below. She wondered if she hit the crashing waves below, she would explode into a ball of energy.  Part of her wanted to.  Maybe take out half of Sunnydale.  Petty, but screw it.  Hopefully it would be the part that Buffy was in, she thought spitefully.

She knew the instant that he arrived.  

“There you are.  Been looking everywhere for you.”  Spike walked up next to her

“Sorry, I just needed…” she gestured vaguely, unsure what to say, “Thanks, though.”  She wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for finding her, or helping with her visibility problem.

He smirked, “No problem, pet.  I left the little tossers crying their eyes out, trying to put their wee little plastic dolls back together. So, you gonna jump?”

That was the million dollar question, what she’d been building toward since she’d gotten there.  “Maybe,” she said honestly looking at him.

“What about the slayer?”

She laughed hollowly, turning away. “What about her?” she said, “Buffy honestly wouldn’t care right now if I did jump.  She’d say she did, but deep down…” Dawn closed her eyes, and forced herself to speak the awful > truth, “Deep down…she’d be relieved.”  

She opened her eyes, and was mildly surprised that the rest of world was still turning after that revelation.  Part of her felt like it should have stopped, or at least paused, to honor her monumental grief.  

She missed the delighted look that crossed Spike's face, before it was replaced by a more thoughtful expression.

He moved behind her, and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.  She tensed for a moment, and then relaxed into the comfort he offered.  From here she could rest her head on his shoulder.  “Life’s hard, kitten. Only losers take the easy way out,” he said softly.

“Worked out for you,” she saw him smile out of the corner of her eye.

“Point,” he said.

“Why do you care anyway? No one else does,” Buffy doesn’t were the words that wanted to slip out, but she stopped them just in time.

He was silent for a moment, and then said silkily, “You have such lovely darkness in you pet. I can feel it.  Have since I got back.  Let me help you let it out.”

His voice sent tingles all over.  He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant.  “How?” she asked in a small voice.

His hands slid underneath the bottom edge of her shirt, and gently stroked the skin there.  She gasped at the touch.  “Trust me pet, I can take care of you,” he whispered.  His lips just grazed the skin of her ear as he spoke.  

Suddenly her tingles had tingles, and she was having trouble thinking straight.

“You don’t love me,” she blurted out.

“Do you love me?” he asked back gently.

She thought about it, did she love him?  She saw his point.  She did, and she didn’t.  This was all so new, that she really didn’t know what she felt.  All she did know is how she didn’t feel.  She didn’t feel useless, or worthless, or not there when she was with him.  

“I’ll worship you, precious,” he continued, still gently stroking her stomach in little circles, “Treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”  

The sensations he was creating were overwhelming.  Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breasts felt like they had somehow swelled and her nipples had hardened and gotten so hypersensitive that even breathing seemed to make them ache.  Her stomach clenched tightly, and she felt something else clench down there.  

“Let me worship you, Dawn” he said, and she felt his tongue trace the shell of her ear.  

She closed her eyes and hissed, “Yesss.”

* Ok, this reference was a stretch, but Hawley Griffin was the name that Alan Moore gave the Invisible Man in the graphic novel ‘The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen’. H.G. Wells never fully named the character, just gave him the ambiguous name of Griffin (without specifying if that was a first or last name). The line really didn’t flow without a first and last name. It barely flows now, but I digress. Let us pretend Spike sat up one day when he couldn’t sleep and read it. Also, the movie character had a different name…it was a thing. And for the record, I am not that much of a comic book person, but wikipedia is a wonderful thing.

Part Five

Dawn’s mind was racing by the time they got back to his crypt.  She was going to have sex with Spike.  She was going to have sex with Spike.  She was going to have sex with Spike.

She was a bundle of nerves.  They walked through the main entrance of the crypt, and Spike just jumped down to the lower level, leaving Dawn to climb down the ladder.   She nervously climbed down, suddenly unsure.  Maybe she had misunderstood somehow.  

When she reached the bottom of the ladder, she barely had a chance to turn around.  Spike was right there, pinning her back against the ladder, and kissing her fiercely.  It was amazing and terrifying.  Like watching the funnel cloud of a tornado form, knowing that it was deadly and could consume you at any second, but being entirely unable to move away because it was breathtaking as well.    

When he drew back, she was panting, and her head was spinning.  Her skin felt flushed as well.  It was suddenly so hot in here.

“So pretty, pet.  C’mere,” he took her by the hand, leading her to the center of the room.  The candles were still lit from before.  A very few had guttered out, but the majority was still burning brightly.  

Her eyes narrowed, “You planned this,” she said sliding her hand from his.

“Not planned,” he smiled that smile, the one that made those muscles between her legs clench, “Was hopeful though.  You mind?”

She shook her head.  She didn’t mind, really.  It was nice in a way.

He circled around her slowly, seeming to examine her from top to bottom.  It made her nervous, and she tried not to fidget.  Once he seemed to find her satisfactory, he slid up behind her pulling her to him, mimicking what he had done on the cliff.  His hands slipped beneath her shirt again and he was gently stroking her belly.  His lips found her neck, and he placed soft wet kisses along it.  It gave her goose bumps.

She was tense and excited, unsure of what she should do.  When he just continued with his gentle caresses, she finally relaxed.  

“That’s it,” he whispered in her ear, “Let me take care of you.”

His cool fingers slipped down, toying with the waistband of her jeans, dipping down now and then to stroke the skin above her panties.  Before she had really even noticed, he had unbuttoned her jeans, and was in the process of unzipping them.  

She swallowed thickly, embarrassed because he must have heard her.  This was so wrong, she shouldn’t be letting him do this, but it felt so good.  She gasped when his hand slid fully down into her pants, cupping her sex through her panties.  

“Ever let a boy touch you down here?” he asked, whispering thickly in her ear, and he slid his hand up and down gently over her crotch, pausing and gently squeezing between each down stroke.  She felt something throb every time his hand paused.

The only time she’d ever even done anything with a boy was Charlie Hitchens in the 8th grade.  They were all supposed to go to the arcade that day, but ended up playing ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ at Sally’s house instead because her folks were gone.  She’d ended up being locked in the closet with Charlie.  All she remembered was that he was super sweaty and the one attempt he’d made to kiss her was wet and sloppy and just gross, getting both her chin and nose wet at the same time before she’d been able to push him away.  He sulked for the remainder of their confinement, but didn’t try anything else.  

She shook her head, “N-No,” she stammered.

“You don’t know how happy that makes me, my sweet girl,” he said as he ground his jeans clad hips into her, so she could feel his hardness, “Love that you’re untouched.”

She felt his hands shift to tug on the edges of her jeans.  “Can I?” he asked, even as he was gently tugging them down.

“Y-yes,” she barely managed to whisper.  

He made quick work of removing her clothes, undressing her as if she were a small child; helping her step out of her shoes, then her jeans, slowly unbuttoning her shirt and whisking it off her shoulders. His hands had grazed her skin in dozens of places, and it felt like she had been scorched in every single one of them.  She could still feel every single place tingling.  

She felt weird, standing here with her back to him in her underwear and bra, almost more naked than naked.  She wanted to cross her arms in front of her chest or something.  Before she could move, however, he was unhooking her bra, and sliding the straps off her shoulders.  She realized she was wrong, she could totally feel more naked.  

Immediately after her bra hit the pile of clothes, it was joined by his t-shirt, making her feel a little less vulnerable.  
His fingertips gently stroked her arms, down from shoulder to elbow. “You ok?” he said softly next to her ear.

She nodded jerkily.  She didn’t know if she was ok exactly, but she didn’t want him to stop either.  

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, “Can I get you to do something for me?”

She nodded, unsure of her voice.  

“Good girl.  Can I get you to kneel on the end of the bed for me? I want to see you,” she felt his hand gently press the small of her back, propelling her forward.  

She stepped to the end of the bed, and turned to look at him, unsurely.   He was standing there, shirt off, jeans gapping with the first button undone.  She realized his feet were bare, and wondered when he’d taken his boots off.  

“That’s it, Kitten, go on,” he motioned for her to continue.

His voice had changed a bit.  Gotten harder, or more firm or something.  It made her stomach flutter. She blushed. She was really going to do this.  

She awkwardly got on the bed, and knelt down, facing him, with her butt resting on her heels.  She was glad she was still wearing her panties.  There was no way she would have done this if she hadn’t been wearing them.  

“Spread your knees a bit,” he told, again in that voice.  She blushed down to her toes at this, but struggled to comply.  It took two more attempts to get them as wide as he wanted them.  

Once she had gotten her knees in the right place, he walked up to her and reached out to stroke her face.  He sucked in his breath and said, “You have no idea what you do to me.  Kneel up, Kitten, and let me show you.”

She felt completely graceless, but she still managed to do it without losing her balance.  

He moved his hands to his jeans and slowly finished unbuttoning them.  Sliding his jeans off his hips a bit, he pulled himself out.  Her brain froze.  It was a penis, his penis. His dick.  His cock. She didn’t even know what to call it in her own head.  It was big, and kind of purplish, and looked like it had too much skin on it.  It didn’t look anything like the grainy pictures she had laughed self-consciously over with her girl friends.

As she watched, he slid his hand up and down it a little bit, and she noticed that a bead of something had formed on the top.  He swiped it off quickly with his thumb, and then held his thumb out to her, in front of her lips.  “Would Kitten like a taste of her cream?” he asked.  

She felt herself throb between her legs again at his words, and with her eyes huge and fixed on his face, her tongue darted out and licked his thumb.  It didn’t really have much of a taste, and certainly was not as bad as Janice had made out.  Spike looked so pleased.  It made her stomach flip-flop that she’d made him proud.  

“That’s my sweet girl.  Got more where that came from.  Have a taste.  I want to see my sweet Kitten lap up her cream.” He brought his hand back to grasp his penis and then bent it toward her mouth.  She saw that another bead had formed and was ready to spill over.  

Before she could think about what she was doing, she leaned forward and gently licked it off with her tongue.  It was oddly slick on her tongue, but wasn’t horrible or anything.  

She made a game out of darting forward and rasping the flat of her tongue across him as the fluid beaded up, delighting in the sharp intakes of breath her actions caused.  He didn’t seem to want her to put it in her mouth, and she was glad.  She wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet.  

“So good, Kitten,” he said breathlessly, and released his penis.  The wet and shiny tip was an even darker purple now and a lot of the extra skin seemed to have pulled back.  

With nothing to do, she was suddenly very nervous and very aware of where she was and what she was doing.  She looked down at the floor, deliberately letting her hair spill down to cover her face. She wanted to bring her arms up and cover herself, but was afraid of what Spike would think about that.

“Hey now, none of that” Spike said gently.  He reached out and lifted her chin with one hand, and stroked her face with the other.  His thumb brushed against her eyebrow ring causing her to shiver.

His hands shifted, and he brushed her hair back over her shoulders.  “My beautiful Venus,” he said looking intently at her, “what sweet little tits you have.”

Before she could even be embarrassed by what he had said, his hands cupped her breasts.  She gasped as his thumbs started stroking back and forth firmly over the nipples. Every gentle swish over her hard nipples sent a jolt of electricity between her legs.

She gasped, because this time, instead of a jolt she felt her interior muscles clench and throb as he pinched one of her nipples hard.  He did it again, this time with the other nipple.  Then he was back doing the gentle swish again, soothing the sting.  He kept alternating between the two actions, never setting any sort of pattern.  The sensation was so intense.  

Her eyes slipped shut, and her head rolled back a little.  She felt the long strands of her hair freely swaying now, occasionally brushing against the hypersensitive skin of her naked back.  She didn’t even notice when she began arching her chest further into his hands or hear herself making inarticulate sounds of pleasure.  

Spike noticed.  He smirked at how responsive she was; such a ripe fruit.  Ready now to be plucked.

She felt Spike's hands begin to wander lower now.  Fingers delicately traced her ribcage and sides, as his thumbs stroked her breastbone.  His hands sliding further down so they spanned her waist and his thumbs swept around her bellybutton.

Her head felt extra heavy, and her skin felt super tight.  She rolled her head forward, opening her eyes and looked at where his hands were on her belly.  His thumbs were sweeping around her bellybutton in circles.  As she watched, one slipped in and he pressed down gently. She gasped at the sensation, and her eyes flew to his face.

“Feel good, Kitten?” he asked, rhythmically pressing and releasing his thumb into her bellybutton.

Something in the way he asked made her feel like she was supposed to answer.  Her head still felt so heavy, and her tongue seemed to have swollen in size, sticking thickly in her mouth.  She managed to squeeze out an, “Uh huh.”

She watched as the expression on his face tightened into something she couldn’t place.  It wasn’t really anger, but whatever it was it made her heart sink, and she started to feel sick.  She felt like she had done something wrong, something that had disappointed him, but had no idea what it might be.  

His hands slowed in their task, and he said, his voice sounding clipped, “Was that a ‘yes,’ Kitten?”

Relief flooded her.  She could fix this.  She swallowed thickly and said, “Y-yes.”  She felt her face get hot.  The tips of her ears burned.

She watched, relieved, as the tight look vanished, and a wicked little smile replaced it.

“I can make you feel even better,” he said, still in the stomach flipping firm voice, “Lay back on the bed for me. Up on the pillows,” he gestured at the head of the bed.

Dawn wished she could do what he asked and be all sexy looking at the same time, like the women in movies always seemed to, but she really felt like she just scrambled backwards like an overeager puppy.   She watched as Spike slid his jeans completely off, and stepped out of them.  Her eyes skirted the heavy fullness between his legs, only able to sneak tiny glances before looking away nervously.  

He managed to do the sexy movie guy thing when he slowly crawled up the bed to hover over her.  He dipped his head down and caught her bottom lip in his teeth, tugging it gently before he released it.   Then he kissed her, and it was as if the world stopped.  If his earlier kisses reminded her of a tornado, these were a tidal wave.  His lips and tongue were hard and demanding, and she felt as if he were consuming her.    

When he finally pulled away, the intense look in his eyes both frightened and excited her, mostly because she couldn’t read everything there.  The only thing she could read clearly was want.  

“You ready sweet Kitten? Ready for me to touch you?” he whispered huskily.

She nodded and said, “Yes.”

He sat back on his heels, and gazed down at her, studying her.  He began to arrange her on the bed, spreading her hair on the pillow, centering her pendant between her breasts, placing her arms at her sides.  If someone had told her before this very moment that being arranged like this would make her feel more cherished, rather than less, she would have laughed at them.  It should have been demeaning, but it wasn’t.

He was making her beautiful, making her feel beautiful.  All those things that she hadn’t realized she was worrying about simply melted away.  Her hair didn’t look stupid and messed up, she didn’t have to worry about what to do with her arms, or that her necklace was stuck somewhere around her ears.

When she was displayed to his satisfaction, he ran his fingers down between her legs, over her panties.  Dawn saw with horror that there was a huge wet spot across the front of the white cotton.  She tensed.  What if Spike thought that she’d… somehow leaked.  Or worse, what if it smelled bad, she unconsciously moved her arms to cover herself.  

The sharp sting of a pinch on her inner thigh, and her eyes flew back to Spikes face. “Stay still, Kitten,” he said sharply.  

She stilled, her eyes locked with his.  He lightly trailed the fingers of one hand across the front of her panties, lingering in the damp patch. “So hot for me,” he said, sounding pleased, “Don’t ever be embarrassed about that, Kitten.”

His thumb circled around the slick spot gently until she gasped when he found her swollen bundle of nerves.  He smirked at her as his thumb pressed …right…there.  She fought to keep herself still when the throbbing flesh beneath his thumb went from thrumming flutter to a ripple of pulsing muscle contractions in her lower belly.  She had to stop herself from pressing her hips up to grind against his hand.    He pressed and released his thumb dozens of times until her hands clenched, and her thighs were trembling with the effort of remaining still.

Just when she didn’t think she could stand any more, he said, “Close your eyes, Dawn.”

She looked at him apprehensively for a moment, and then did as he asked, closing her eyes.  She felt him tug at her panties, bending her knees to slip them down and off one leg and then the other.  She heard him toss them off the bed just before he placed his hands on her inner thighs and parted her legs.  She felt the bed shift as he adjusted his position.  

She was startled when she felt him spread her most private part open even farther with his fingers.  She felt the cool air of the crypt on her heated flesh.  He made no further move to touch her, it was maddening.  She imagined that she could feel the weight of his stare, making her feel hot and dirty and naughty.  

His hands swept down and pushed her legs further apart, almost to the point of discomfort.  One finger returned and very deliberately slid down her slit from the top, stopping just at her opening.  Skirting the exact place she wanted him to touch.  He made the same move again, this time tracing down the opposite side.  Instead of restarting at the top again as she’d expected, she felt him circle her entrance.  His finger spiraled closer, and began dipping inside her slightly.   She felt her flesh part as the finger slid inside fully, just as his tongue began to lap at her exposed flesh.  

She screamed, and nearly came up off the bed.  Only the fear of disappointing him, causing him to stop what he was doing, kept her still.  He was relentless, his tongue traced crazy patterns back and forth.  His finger pistoned in and out, quickly joined by a second one.   She knew now that he was going to drive her insane.  She wanted to thrust up against his fingers, his face, but wasn’t allowed to move.  Her thighs trembled with the effort of staying open, and her hands were clenched so tightly that they were cramping.  She knew she was moaning continuously, but didn’t care.  

The throbbing and pulsing between her legs now felt like some kind of aching itch.  And instead of scratching it, Spike was somehow just making the ache even deeper.  She felt like she was driving faster and faster toward a moving target.  Getting so close, but having it snatched away at the last second.

When she finally was near tears and couldn’t take it anymore Spike pulled his mouth away and slid his fingers out of her.

“No!” she sobbed, “No please, please.”

“Open your eyes, Kitten,” he commanded.

She wrenched open her eyes, unsurprised to see the room waver a bit as two tears welled up and slipped out of the corners of her eyes.  His head was still between her legs, just an inch, maybe two from where she wanted it to be.  Where she needed it to be.  Her breathing was ragged, and she was so hot that she thought she might burst into flames at any moment.

“Time to grow up, Kitten,” he said coolly, “Take what you want.”

She didn’t even hesitate a second. Unclenching her hands, she grabbed his head and pressed it down, bringing her legs closer together and thrusting up with her hips at the same time. She’d have time to be embarrassed and humiliated later, now though she was mindlessly seeking the release he’d been denying her.

Instead of contributing to the aching in her loins, Spike was finally helping to alleviate it.  She ground hard up against his mouth, refusing to release his head in case he decided to stop again.  Instead of the pleasure being centered around a single throbbing point, it flattened somehow and yet still rose to a dizzying peak.  She hovered there for an eternal half second, knowing she was on the edge and about to topple over.  Spike pressed down with the flat of his tongue, and that was all it took.  She screamed, and rode herself against his face as wave after wave of pleasure rippled out across her entire body.  When the sensations became too much, she released his head, and tried to close her legs.  Spike blocked her, and nuzzled himself against her quivering flesh for a brief moment.  He pulled himself away, and quickly positioned himself above her.  

She had half a second to process that his face was slick and shiny, before he was kissing her hard.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as his hands slid down her hips and hooked under her thighs, and she felt his hard cock probe at her entrance, before it started to press in.  It was so much bigger than his fingers had been, and she felt her muscles stretching as they parted to allow him access.  

Still plundering her mouth, he pulled his hips back, and pressed in again, gaining more ground.  Drawing his hips back a second time; he paused briefly, and then thrust his full length into her impossibly hard and fast.  

Dawn felt a sharp, eye-watering pain that made her cry out against his mouth.  It subsided almost immediately, and she was left moaning and rocking against him as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm.  

He was pumping himself in and out of her with wild abandon.  He wrenched himself away from her mouth and grunted several times, pressing himself into her as far as he could go.  

He released her thighs, and propped himself up over her, looking down. He thrust his hips lazily now and then.

“Feel good, Kitten,” he asked gently.

“Mmmhmm…yes,” she answered, muddleheaded and lazy from her release.  

He dropped a kiss on her forehead, and then managed to roll them both over, so she was lying on his chest.  He thrust once more, and slid out of her.  She felt a gush of cool fluid that made her want to get up and try to find a towel, but she was so tired and comfortable, she didn’t want to move.  

“Rest now,” he said soothingly, gently stroking her hair and back.  

“Just for a sec,” she whispered, closing her eyes.


It couldn’t have been much later when Dawn awoke.  She felt a little sore and kind of extra squishy between her legs. She tensed as she heard someone, or something, moving about in the crypt overhead.

When she tried to get up, Spike firmly held her in place, and whispered, “Shh, Kitten, stay still.”

She was left watching in horror in the corner mirror as Buffy began to descend the ladder.

“Dawn?  Dawnie?” Buffy called as she was climbing down “Listen, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but Willow knows how to fix…” she paused as the got to the bottom of the ladder and turned around.  “Oh My God!”

“Oh, she’s already fixed slayer, ” Dawn could hear the smirk in his voice, “I fixed her up real good.  Keep it down though, wouldn’t want to wake her up.  She’s a bit knackered.”

Dawn felt a wave of embarrassment at being caught like this.  Her heart thundered in her chest.  At the least Spike had pulled a blanket up over them at some point.  

“Spike!” Buffy hissed, “What did you do?”

“Nothing she didn’t ask for,” he said.  Dawn could hear the smirk in his voice.  

“You’re dead,” Buffy said flatly.

“Well, yeah,” Spike replied.

“Permanently, starting now,” Buffy pulled out her stake.  Dawn shifted, but Spike’s grip tightened, forcing her to stay in place.  She knew she could have spoken and broken the illusion, but she waited, wanting to see what happened.

“Think for a minute, slayer.  That really what you want to do?  You want her to wake up to an empty bed?”

“Please, get over yourself.  She’ll be fine,” Buffy said.

“Just like you were?” Spike asked coldly.

Buffy froze, her face paling.  “W-what?”

“Angelus does love to talk,” Spike replied.

“Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“’Was I not good?’” Spike mocked in a quiet falsetto.  

Dawn was so conflicted.  As angry as she was at Buffy, to have Angelus thrown back in her face like this was cruel.  Part of her felt sick inside, but another part spitefully thought Buffy deserved at least some of this.

“You’re a monster,” Buffy said.

“Never pretended to be anything else.,” Spike sneered, “‘Specially not to her.  And she still screamed so sweetly when I broke her cherry.”

Dawn felt her ears burn at that.  

“I’m not leaving her here with you,” Buffy said, but Dawn saw she was shaken.

“Don’t have much of a choice,” Spike replied, “Besides, what do you care? I thought you were ready to get rid of her today.  Better off with the state, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Dawn frowned, how did he know that?  She never told him exactly what Buffy had said.  

“I didn’t mean…” Buffy started softly, losing some of her previous indignation.

“Doesn’t matter though does it?  ’M not the only one who could hurt her.”

“Dawnie,” Buffy said mournfully.  Dawn recognized the tone in her voice, and found herself once again hurt but unsurprised.  Buffy was giving up on her.  Again.  

It was the last straw.  She pushed against Spike trying to sit up.  He let her go this time.  She was able to manage to keep the blanket in place to cover herself as she sat.  She felt the bed shift, as Spike sat up as well, and leaned back against the headboard.  

“That’s enough,” she said, glaring at Buffy, “Get out.”

“Dawn,” Buffy had the good sense to look embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, please.  We’ll figure this out.  Just come with me,” she urged.

“I don’t care. You’re not forgiven,” Dawn said flatly. “I’ll be home later. We’ll talk then.”

“He doesn’t care about you.  You can’t trust him.  He won’t let you leave here, Dawn.” Buffy argued.

Dawn turned to look at Spike, “You gonna stop me?”

Spike shook his head, “Nope.”

Dawn nodded and turned back to Buffy, and said “See.  I’ll be home. Leave.”

“I can’t just...” Buffy started.

Dawn lost it.  “It’s not about you, Buffy! It’s not always about you,” She screamed “I don’t want to leave. I don’t care that you feel bad.  I don’t want to see you now. Get.The.Hell.Out.  Is that clear enough?”

Buffy’s face fell, “I just want you to be safe, Dawn. You’re all I have,”  she whispered.

“Whatever, see you at home,” Dawn said, dismissing her.  She leaned back, and Spike wrapped his arm around her.

Spike added, “Toddle off slayer, I’ll send her along when we’re done.”

Dawn reached back and smacked him in the chest without looking, “No longer helping, be quiet.”

She turned back to Buffy.  “You leaving?” she asked coldly.  

Buffy nodded and turned toward the ladder.

Spike chuckled and whispered, “It looks like I got my one really good day after all.”

Buffy stopped for a second as if she was going to turn around.  Then she squared her shoulders and continued to the ladder, climbing up and out.

Part Six

As soon as Dawn was sure Buffy was out of the crypt, she pulled away from Spike.  She wrapped the blanket around her and scooted to the far edge of the bed.  All of her bravado gone, she put her shaking hands up to cover her face as the tears began to fall.  

Dawn felt sick.  She was so stupid to have trusted a demon.  Every evil thing Buffy had ever told her about Spike was echoing in her head.  She’d handed her virginity to him on a silver platter.    

She heard the snick of a lighter, and then Spike’s sharp inhale as he lit a cigarette.  It took a few seconds to register that he was handing it to her.  

“Take it,” he said.

She laughed crazily.  “I thought you didn’t want me to smoke.”

“You telling me you don’t need it?” he asked.  

She reluctantly accepted it from him and took a long drag,  using her other hand to wipe her face,   and all the while refusing to look at Spike.  She didn’t want to see the smug, satisfied look that she knew was on his face.  She stared instead at the cigarette, losing herself in the mindless act of inhaling, exhaling and tapping the ash off the end.  

Spike handed her an ashtray just as the cherry reached the filter.  She sadly crushed it out, acutely aware that her reprieve was over.

“You just gonna sit there?” Spike asked, setting the ashtray down on the night table next to him.  

She tried to sigh, but it came out as a choked half-sob.  “No,” she said and cleared her throat.  “I’ll get out of your way.”

She pulled the blanket around herself more firmly, and leaned forward to stand up.  She was startled when she felt Spike’s firm grip on her arm.  

“Not what I meant, Bit.  C’mere,” he said, using the same commanding voice he had earlier.  She was torn; a huge part of her wanted to just acquiesce, but the rest of her had had enough of everyone telling her what to do.  

She tried to pull her arm away.  “You’ve had your fun, Spike.  Just...”  She paused as the tears threatened to overwhelm her again. When she’d gotten control of herself, she whispered pleadingly, “Just let me be, okay? Please?”  

“Can’t do that.  Don’t make me tie you up,” he threatened.

She could tell he was serious by the tone of his voice, so she allowed herself to be dragged back onto his naked lap.  He put his arms around her, and she curled up against his chest, refusing to make eye contact.

“Talk to me,” he said after several long minutes of silence.

She felt the urge to laugh hysterically, and barely suppressed it.  “What, you’re Oprah now?” she asked, not bothering to keep the contempt out of her voice.

“Not bloody likely,” he said with a grimace.  “And as brilliant as I think you telling the slayer off was, it wasn’t easy for you.”

“Don’t pretend you care, Spike,” she said angrily.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice firm but quiet.  

She shook her head.  She had no desire to see the gleeful contempt in his eyes.  

“Dawn,” he said, his voice harder.  

She sighed.  “Fine!”

It seemed like such a simple task, to raise her head and look up at him, but it took every ounce of strength and courage she had left.  She lifted her head first, and then managed to finally meet his eyes, steeling herself for what she knew she’d find there.  

Surprisingly, although his expression was hard to read, the scorn and contempt  she’d expected to see were missing.  Everything else was a jumble, but that at least was very clear to her.  

“Why?” she asked.  

“Why do you think?” he replied.

“To hurt Buffy,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice firm.  

He dipped his head in a slight nod.  

She nodded back, her worst fears confirmed.  “Did you…,” she started, then stopped, shaking her head.  “Doesn’t matter.”  There was a huge lump blocking her throat.  She wondered if it would choke her.  

“Did I what?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.  “Did I care?  Did I want you?  Did I use you to hurt your sister?”

She nodded.  

He picked her up, shifting their bodies so that she lay under him.  She gasped at his hardness when he thrust his hips against her.  

“I do want you,” he said.  “But I’m not a man, Kitten.  I’m a demon.”

He leaned in and kissed her hard.  She allowed him to, even encouraged it by wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  Despite all the pain and hurt, his kisses still made the world fall away.  

He pulled back and adjusted himself to lie along her left side, propping his head up on one arm.  He tugged at the blanket wrapped around her chest with his free hand, exposing her breasts.

“Let me play, Kitten?” he asked, his hand moving up to cup one of her breasts.  His thumb stroked the nipple gently.  

“Wait,” she said, finding her voice at last.  She pushed his hand away.

A million thoughts ran through her head, like a pack of wild animals.  She couldn’t single one out to concentrate on; all of them were clamoring for attention.

She gave up on trying to wrestle her own demons.  Instead, she looked at him long and hard, and finally said flatly, “Change. Show me.”

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded.  She heard the crunch of bone as his face was re-sculpted.  

She examined it.  She’d assumed that she knew what vamps looked like, but realized now that she had never taken the time to study one.  She’d thought that because this face was a part of Spike, she would find it just as attractive as he was.  She’d been wrong.  

Up close, it was alien and terrifying to see him like this.  The pronounced ridges, piercing yellow eyes and fangs were so inhuman.  She reached up to touch his face hesitantly.  He didn’t pull away.  She rubbed the ridges on his brow, part of her hoping to feel them give under her fingers, like latex.  She was mistaken; they were hard and felt similar to the bones beneath the skin of her knees or elbows.  

How many girls had gone to their graves seeing this face looming over them?  The thought made her a bit sick to her stomach, but she knew she had to have an answer.  

As if reading her mind, Spike said, “Too many to count, Kitten.”

She held his amber gaze and picked up his hand, placing it on her breast.  

Spike didn’t look surprised, or if he did, she couldn’t tell with his face all bumpy.  

“You sure, Bit?”  The words had a barely noticeable sibilant cast to them.  

She nodded, eyes still locked with his.  She refused to look away as he lowered his head and licked delicately at a nipple.  He alternated sides, teasing her, worshiping her breasts with his tongue.  

The tingle of arousal she felt was becoming intertwined with sparks of fear.   Every time her brain processed that she was allowing a killer to touch her, her nerve endings went haywire.  A hot pulse flaring out from the base of her neck raced along her nerves to her fingertips and toes, then rushed back to settle somewhere in the pit of her stomach.  And still she allowed him to continue.  

Her nipples were hard points now; just a light touch to them caused terrible, wonderful flutters between her legs.  She was still a little sore from earlier, but the slight twinges only amplified her arousal instead of dampening it.

Spike gently tugged the blanket down until she was completely exposed to him.  They still kept eye contact, as if they were both enchanted.  Beauty and her Beast.

He rose over her and gently stroked a path down her belly with his fingers, then lowered his head to trace the same path with his tongue.    

He gently parted her legs, spreading her open.  Her muscles protested, trembling slightly.  They felt almost bruised.  She noticed that there was dried blood on her thighs.  She wanted to be embarrassed by this, but she had been hollowed out, too emotionally hurt to care.  

Spike seemed to pick up on this, and instead of going after what Dawn knew he wanted, he reached up and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.  His thumb gently stroked her palm.  

“Want me to stop, Dawn?” he asked, his gentle tone at odds with his monstrous face.  

She shook her head, and gripped his fingers tightly, holding onto him as she felt herself start to come apart.  One person shouldn’t be able to feel so many things at once: arousal, terror, loneliness, despair, excitement, need.  Maybe normal people didn’t feel all those things; maybe the monks built her wrong.  She just knew that she needed this, needed to have the memory of what he truly was with her forever.

“Let me fix this, Kitten.  Let me be what you need,” he said, his cheek rubbing against her thigh.  

And with that, all the tension and frustration and pain broke and melted away.  This monster was her Spike.  The one she always turned to when things got bad, who always gave her what she needed.  

“Please, Spike, I need…,” she broke off, unable to form the right words.

“Shh, I know.  I have you.”  He squeezed her hand.

She relaxed and allowed him to take care of her.  

He  held both her hand and her gaze as he lapped up the blood and other fluids from her thighs.  The gentle stroking of his tongue was simultaneously soothing and arousing, and soon she was opening her legs further and gently rocking her hips toward his face.

When she was cleaned to his satisfaction, he lifted his head up and grinned.  She suddenly had an image flash through her mind of him striking his deadly fangs deep into her thigh.  The picture sent a frisson of fear through her that did nothing to diminish her arousal.  

His grin widened briefly before he leaned forward once again.  Unlike the last time he’d been between her thighs, he didn’t tease; instead he quickly brought her to the brink of a sweet, gentle orgasm. Their eyes remained locked until she was forced to close her own as she crested the wave of pleasure.  She gladly immersed herself in the bliss he offered.

He was over her and inside her before she opened her eyes.  He grasped the hand he wasn’t already holding, and entwined his fingers with hers, pinning her arms next to her head.  He rocked himself against her, drawing out her orgasm even as he reached his own.  

Dawn opened her eyes just as Spike gave a low, inhuman growl and spilled himself into her.  She gripped his fingers tightly and wrapped her long legs around him, holding him to her.  

She heard the familiar crunch of bone and watched as his face shifted back to its normal planes and angles.  

He leaned forward and kissed her gently.  When he pulled back, he rested his forehead on hers.  

“We’re good, yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling, realizing that she genuinely meant it.


They both dressed in comfortable silence.  Dawn hadn’t been able to find her panties, and suspected he’d kept them.  She would have said something, but she thought it was kind of romantic that he’d wanted to keep something of hers.  And if the panties really were just lost, she wanted to hold on to the notion that he’d taken them.  So she  remained quiet, pulling her jeans on over her bare butt.

When they had finished, Dawn asked suddenly, “How did you know Buffy wanted me to go into foster care?”

“Those three tossers.  They had her under surveillance.” Dawn heard the unspoken ‘for me.’

“So what now?” she asked.

He shrugged.  “Not sure.”

“But you’re leaving.”  She didn’t even bother to make it a question.

“Have to, don’t I?” he replied.

Dawn nodded.  She knew he was right, but she was going to miss him.  He’d been her only real friend.  

“You need me to walk you back?” he asked her.

She shook her head.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you will,” he said.  She knew he was talking about more than the walk back, and was grateful for his support.  

She walked over to him and gave him a hug.  He wrapped his arms around her and she felt his otherness now; the strength in his arms, the stillness of his heart.  “I’ll miss you,” she said earnestly.  “Will I see you again?”

“Count on it,” he said, and kissed her forehead.


She didn’t hover outside the front door, even though she wanted to.  It was better to get everything over with so she could get some sleep.  

In the living room were Buffy, Willow, Xander and Tara.  She almost expected to see Giles.  

“Oh look, my very own intervention,” she said dryly, and entered the lion’s den.

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